


Distraction

by triumphforks



Series: Ares/Orion Gouenji/Kidou Drabbles [6]
Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Ares no Tenbin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triumphforks/pseuds/triumphforks
Summary: Kidou tries to deflect concern in the leadup to the Football Frontier semifinal.





	Distraction

Seisho might be out of the Frontier, but his job wasn’t anywhere close to over. In fact, it had just gotten more involved; keeping up with training, and morale along with it, was all the more difficult after dealing with the kind of loss they’d been handed. 

Training itself might be over for the day, but Kidou didn’t rest. Onlookers would see him with a dour expression heading back to the dorms, alone, and might consider the scene to be a sad one. Because Seisho had lost, dramatically. Because their Representative had failed them, spectacularly. They wouldn’t see what was going on in his mind - sorting through the observations of the day, thinking over each move, each interaction, working out how to play his hand next - just from looking, they wouldn’t know. Couldn’t. 

He knew how he came across. The distant transfer student who only seemed to open to the soccer club. He knew he seemed aloof, like he placed himself above, but he wasn’t here to make friends: he was here for one reason, and he would give that reason his all, even if the competition was over.

A sharp jolt from his blazer pocket. His phone - he slowed to a halt and took it out, and had those observers  _ really  _ been paying attention, they would have seen the difference between his unconscious thinking frown, and one he put up intentionally. 

He had to answer. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was easier to not. Easier to just keep ignoring things like this. But what kind of man would he be if he did? He had to at least try. Try to not make him worry so much. Try to get across that he was  _ fine,  _ in spite of everything. Because Kidou Yuuto was not like other people, to fall at the first hint of adversity.

He took a breath, deliberate, before hitting ‘answer’. 

“Hey,” he said, in a bright voice that didn’t at all match his current demeanour. 

“Oh, hey,” came the reply - and he could hear surprise in Gouenji’s voice, as though he hadn’t been expecting such a cheerful greeting. He couldn’t blame him. 

“What’s up?”   
“Not much. I miss you.” He allowed himself a small smile. A small bit of personal warmth, for the part of him that wasn’t so invested in his Seisho responsibilities. He picked up his pace again, surprised at how the few simple words made his steps feel suddenly light. Before he could say anything, Gouenji spoke again.

“Were you at Raimon? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ah. That lightness left almost as quickly as it came. 

“It wasn’t for anything big. It’s fine.” Words met with silence. Apparently, it wasn’t fine.

“It’s not fine.” He was right. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you? I want to see you.” His words were sharp. Direct. He’d wasted no time in getting to what he actually had called about - and they both knew what he was really saying.  _ The last time I saw you was the Outei match, and I’m worried. _ Here, with his tone, Kidou would embellish:  _ Kidou, are you hurt? Kidou, are you OK? I want to know you’re recovered, because I can’t believe you’d come out unscathed, and I can’t believe you’d be able to manage on your own. _

“It’s just busy.” A blunt reply, hopefully to stave off the line of conversation. From the silence on the other end of the line, he knew it hadn’t worked. But who would Gouenji Shuuya be, if he wasn’t so stubborn?

That persistence was putting him on edge. He thought to all the messages - ones he’d left unreplied, ones that hadn’t come with anywhere near that kind of frequency before the Outei match. He thought to what he had to do here, at Seisho, his responsibility - not just with the team, but with Haizaki, Haizaki who he knew was suffering, who he knew he had to take care of before he could even start to think about his own problems. He thought to this time a year before - what felt like a different lifetime, spending afternoons unburdened, for the first time  _ choosing _ to take the detours in his life and do more with it than school and study and training. Choosing to spend it with people who needed nothing from him but to know he was there. 

And he started to think maybe he had rushed in to it too fast. He had let himself wander - let himself wander as far as to find himself in a relationship! - and now it was too distracting. It was something that was constantly checking in, something right now sitting in his ear  _ waiting,  _ waiting for  _ something _ , and maybe… he was starting to resent it. Because without that part of his life, things were laid out so clear. Seisho was just a problem he had to keep digging at, and block out any of his own distractions until that was done. But what could he do when those distractions kept calling, and kept insisting on bringing up thoughts that had him full of discomfort?

His mouth was heavy. He swallowed, deliberate, before speaking.

“Gouenji-”   
“Are you going to the game?” Cut off before he could even start!

“I don’t know,” he shot back, with a tone he instantly regretted. He took another breath before continuing, trying to shove that bit of escaped irritation back with the rest of his (currently pointless) emotions. “There’s a lot going on.”   
“You should come.”  _ Please come.  _ “It’ll be good to see Endou play.”  _ I know you need him.  _

“I’ll think about it.” He sighed - but made sure to angle away the phone, so Gouenji wouldn’t notice. He felt far from light, now. He felt heavy. Heavy all the way in to his bones. All this concern was a weight, and he knew logically he should cut it off, throw it away… but he knew if he tried he’d think of walking through Inazuma town as the sun set, and climbing up that hill to watch the lights flicker on across the landscape. He’d think of the people he was there with, the two who meant the most to him, those same two who expected the least. He’d think about how he felt reborn, being able to breathe without expectation or commitment, and he knew he’d never be able to let it go. 

He remembered the first time he’d worked up the courage to hold Gouenji’s hand. It had been a night like that, on the tallest hill overlooking the town, after Endou had headed off home. Neither of them were in any rush, he remembered; both trying to stave off going back to empty homes, instead choosing to push aside reality and stay together for a little while more. He remembered he’d moved while Gouenji was off-guard, distracted by some commotion nearby. He’d steeled himself, braced his pounding heart, and made himself act before he could talk himself out of it. He’d felt Gouenji jump at the touch - he’d turned reflexively to see what it was, and when he realised he’d looked up at him and smiled, the softest smile he could remember. And Gouenji had tightened his own hand around his tentative touch, and pulled him just a little closer, and they’d walked like that, connected, brushing against each other, until they’d made their way down from the hill and back under the bright lights.

He could do such a small thing with ease now. But it still brought him that rush, that flurry of happiness, and it was that memory that told him he had to do something to keep it, even if right now, he wanted nothing more than to be in isolation. 

“... I have to go,” he said eventually. Somberly. It was a good memory, but at the moment it only made him feel weary. 

“... I’ll see you soon then?” It sounded like another push, still persistently trying to get him to commit to meeting. But that weariness was bearing down on him, and he needed all the energy he could get if he was going to solve his Seisho problem. Get the Seisho problem done with, so he could go back to living a life more carefree.

“... Sure.” He said, before begrudgingly ending the call. He wasn’t sure why he’d said it, when he didn’t intend to follow through. 

Maybe he wanted to fool himself too.


End file.
